Code: Not–So–Green
by invinciblelronman
Summary: Prompt: Bruce's dog instigates a meeting between he and Tony. Tony is reluctantly holding a fundraiser for animal shelters in India, and is toppled over by someone who isn't supposed to exist.


_Original prompt: Okay maybe like Bruce has a dog like he did in 2008 hulk and he's walking the dog near where Tony is holding an animal shelter charity event (though he doesn't really care for animals all that much) and like Bruce's dog goes nuts with the other animals and tackles Tony over._

* * *

A year after Stark Industries stopped manufacturing weapons and instead focused on clean energy, Tony Stark found himself in India. Tony's brand new CEO had the idea to found a chain of no-kill animal shelters all over the world, placing Tony's name in a positive light again after a year of uncharacteristically avoiding press conferences and other events. So that was the reason that despite all this being Pepper's idea, and countless of hours spent trying to convince her otherwise, Tony was sauntering around sour faced at an animal shelter charity event, somewhere in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.

He had given a short speech, shaken hands of people whose names he had long forgotten, smiled for photographers of papers he wouldn't read; if it was up to him, it was time to go home already. Unfortunately, he had pledged to stay for at least an hour before going back to his private plane. Sure he liked dogs, kittens and other fluffy creatures, but only from a distance and if they weren't constantly trying to get themselves ran over.

It was chaos, really. The event took place outside, and many people had gathered to listen to Tony's speech with their – most of the time – unleashed pets running around, barking, whining and basically making a mess. Tony could feel a migraine coming on and for the third time in less than a minute, he checked his watch to see that the hands still weren't any closer to the hour of his impending freedom. He let out a long-suffering sigh and decided it might be time to give a bit of his time to the young journalist who had been screaming for his attention for the last two minutes.

He never made it to the journalist. Before he had even turned around, an excited bark that sounded way too close for his liking made his head snap up, only to be greeted by a rogue, wet tongue and two giant paws on his chest. With a scream he later on claimed to be very manly, he stumbled backwards and fell on the hard ground and was immediately engulfed in grey fur.

"Down!" he told the dog while trying to shove him away, but to no avail. He struggled for a bit, trying to dodge the dog's nose and tongue. A moment later, a dark voice in his earpiece informed him that they had a clean shot and were waiting for his command. Tony barely considered the option before remembering how much shit Pepper would give him for letting a dog be shot at an event that specifically was about animals.

"Hold fire," he said with a restrained voice; the command was quickly followed by another series of _no_ 's and _get the fuck off_ 's.

"Cão, _down_!" another, slightly distressed voice joined his. The dog pointed his ears, gave Tony's face a final lick and, still excitedly wagging his tail, ran back to his owner. Tony took a moment to process what the fuck just happened before letting his eyes follow the dog that was now standing proudly beside his owner, a man in a ratty, red shirt and a baseball cap that threw a shadow over his face – which did nothing to hide the fact that he looked nervous as all fuck.

"I'm so, so sorry," the man said while he put the leash back around his dog's neck. "He never does that. I think he got a bit excited, with all those other animals around."

While English was a widely spoken language in India, this man's accent sounded more American than anything else. He totally lacked the appearance of a tourist however – if his dog hadn't just basically molested Tony, the guy would have gone completely unnoticed, naturally blended in with his surroundings.

Tony was helped up by the head of his security. He couldn't keep his eyes off the guy; there was something about him. As if he had seen him before.

"It's all right," Tony said as he dusted his pants off. "I can understand. Even for dogs, it must be hard to keep their paws off of me." He signalled that the guards could stay back with a small nod of his head. He walked a few steps closer and tried to get a better look at the man's face – who with an uncomfortable chuckle bowed his head slightly, now completely covered in shadows.

"I can only imagine. I have to go, though. Have a nice day." The man's hands were fumbling nervously and suddenly, it hit Tony like a train. World Open Science Conference, 2004. A lecture about possible future use of gamma experimentation given by a doctor, the best in his field – yet still obviously not feeling confident, judging from his nervous behaviour. A year later – an explosion in a laboratory. Gamma leakage, only one dead. Not even a month later – a call from the military, demanding Tony to take a look at several numbers; abstract, without context until his real assignment was revealed. The Hulk Buster.

It hadn't taken long for Tony to piece the occurrences together. The doctor, Bruce Banner, hadn't died – instead, the gamma radiation had turned him into a green rage monster that must be kept in check. Tony didn't hesitate to agree. If his weapons knowledge would help keep civilians safe and protect them from a possible second Harlem, he would do his best to make it happen. Even though his project had been on hiatus since his little trip to Afghanistan, he had never questioned what he was doing. Until now. Until the Hulk appeared to be fucking human.

"Wait a second," Tony said hastily when Banner turned around to walk away. Polite as he was, the man stopped in his movements and waited for Tony to continue. "I've only been in India once or twice before, but have never paid much attention to the trees. I just noticed the absolute lack of green, and feel the need to discuss this with a local like you before it somehow causes any trouble. Oxygen deficiency can be a real bitch. Call me." Without looking, he reached into his pocket and held out one of his business cards that actually contained his personal number.

Banner didn't react at first. He just stood there, the dog's leash clenched in his fist, looking like he might either bolt or collapse any second. Tony held his breath when the doctor lifted his head and for the first time actually looked at him. His eyes were – different than Tony remembered – bright green. _Gamma green_ , a little voice in his head said. He didn't know what this sudden change was supposed to mean. He _did_ know that he was right about his assumption that Banner was the Hulk, and that the doctor had caught the hidden message in the bullshit Tony had made up to distract his security team that was constantly listening to everything he said.

"I'll consider it," Banner replied in a calm, contained voice. He took the business card from Tony's hand and when he looked back with a tight smile, Tony noticed that his eyes were turning back to their natural, dark brown colour. It sent a shiver down his spine. "Have a nice day."

* * *

Waiting for a phone call that didn't come was tedious. Instead of going home right after the charity event, Tony had actually checked into a hotel where he spent most his time obsessively checking his phone, raiding the mini bar, passing out and repeating those same motions for three consecutive days without ever hearing anything from Banner. On the fourth day, however, just when he was about to just give up, fly back to Malibu and let the guy suck it up, his phone buzzed with a new message from an unknown number.

 _1600, Shree Thaker._

With his mind still clouded from last night's decision to call room service for a bottle of their finest whiskey, it took Tony a few seconds to figure out what the fuck he was reading. He dropped his head back on his pillow with a groan, because seriously – why would anyone invite another person to some place they didn't know, in a country they didn't know at less than one fucking hour notice? The option to either go back to sleep or retreat to his plane had never been so tempting. It didn't stop him from sending back a thumbs up emoticon.

Fortunately, it took JARVIS less than three seconds to find Tony's destination; apparently, there was some lousy internet café in the same street as his hotel called Shree Thaker – which he probably should have seen if he actually had paid attention to his surroundings when he got to his hotel. So, after taking a quick shower and putting on a set of his more discrete clothing – dark sunglasses, jeans, hoodie – he quickly made his way to the place of his rendezvous. He was early, so he decided to go to the back of the café and wait there until he spotted Banner.

"You're early."

Tony was sitting for barely a second when the voice, seemingly out of nowhere, startled him. He quickly looked up, right into Banner's face. He was wearing a faint, polite smile and his eyes were more visible now his baseball cap wasn't pulled all forwards to hide them from public view.

"Unlike your text, I am." Tony waved into the general direction of the chair across from him at the other side of the table. "Sit down."

With a short nod, Banner did as he was told; when their eyes met again, the smile had disappeared from his face.

"So," the doctor began. "You wanted to discuss something."

"Correct." Tony put his elbows on the table, and leaned a bit closer. Banner copied his position. "I know who you are, but I'm sure you already figured that one out. Great fan of your work, by the way. Interesting topics. But that's not why I wanted to talk to you – believe me, I want to, but not here and now. Anyway, there's this – wait, you know who I am, right?" After Banner nodded in confirmation, Tony continued. "Good. It'd be kind of awkward to continue without you even knowing who I am but as we both know who we are, I don't suppose we need to formally introduce ourselves."

"You formally introduced yourself at the World Open Science Conference, several years ago," Banner mentioned helpfully.

Tony raised his eyebrows. "Did I? I don't remember. Doesn't matter. Glad I made an impression, though." He couldn't keep himself from giving the guy a small wink.

Banner looked away for a second and then replied, his tone a practiced, complete neutral, "I didn't think you would. You were quite inebriated when we met. A drunk, leading scientist that offers you a drink, keeps insisting when you decline and then proceeds to make out with a seemingly random lady tends to leave an impression on a person."

Tony winced as he vaguely remembered which evening Banner might possibly be referring to, yet still didn't remember actually meeting him. He'd apologize, if it weren't for the fact that Tony Stark didn't do apologies. Although the cold gaze that Banner was currently giving him almost made him change his principles.

"You don't like me very much, do you?" The lack of response was answer in itself. "You're not gonna like what I have to say, then."

Banner just raised his eyebrows. Woah. The guy sure knew how to make people uncomfortable. Tony pushed his dark sunglasses up, as if to protect himself from the icy glare. Okay. He could do this. He had only practiced this part about a thousand times when he was wasting time in the hotel.

"I'm not sure how I'm going to break this to you, but… I was under the impression that you were a full-time, all-destroying rage monster after your little accident in the lab; so when the military contacted me to ask if there was anything I could do to help protect the people from the Hulk, I didn't think twice and agreed to cooperate with them. They provided me with your data so I know basically everything about you and your green alter-ego, except for this tiny detail they accidently forgot to mention – that you're still human." Tony was quiet for a moment and tried to gauge Banner's reaction. As of yet, there was none. "So. Long story short… I might have built something specifically engineered to kill you."

Banner still had a look in his eyes that Tony couldn't quite place. After a moment of silence, the man replied, "That's it?"

"What?" Tony blinked. He really hadn't known what kind of reaction he should expect from the doctor, but this definitely wasn't it.

"That's it? What you wanted to tell me?"

"I just told you that I made something to kill you, and this is your reaction?"

Banner sighed, and took his glasses off. Even though it did make him look younger, it also gave Tony a better look at the lines of exhaustion that were clearly written in his face.

"I already knew that."

"You-? How?"

The doctor had a vaguely smug smile on his face when he replied."You're not the only one smart enough to use a computer."

"Wait. Does that mean you actually hacked your way into my database?"

"Not into yours; I couldn't quite get there. The military has copies of your files, though."

"Oh, right. Almost forgot about those." Tony shook his head to himself while he half turned around and pointed to one of the very ancient computers of the internet café. "So you used these pieces of crap to hack into government property?"

"I also have a laptop at home, but that one isn't in a much better shape than these. But, yes."

Tony gave a chuckle that was a mix between amused and positively surprised. "I'm impressed, Banner. Didn't think hacking was in your skill set. But then again, apparently I know less about you than I thought. If I had known you were still human, I'd… I would never have agreed on that."

Again, Banner sighed. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, before looking into Tony's eyes tiredly. "Mr. Stark…"

"Please, call me Tony."

"Mr. Stark, the Other Guy is, as you should have gathered from the data you received from the military, in fact invulnerable. How did you think they got my blood samples?"

Tony opened his mouth to reply, but nothing ever came out. He felt the blood drain away from his face when he realized how easily he had overlooked this fucking huge plot hole in the sugar sweet story the military had made him believe. He slowly closed his mouth to swallow; his mind was suddenly clouded by some horrible interpretations as to how exactly the military had extracted the data from the doctor. Suddenly, it no longer seemed strange that Banner had fled the country, instead of staying there and looking for a cure of some sorts.

"Well. I fucked up," he eventually managed. Banner was looking at Tony like he was actually sorry for him.

"I'm glad we agree on that," the doctor replied evenly.

It was silent for a while. Tony tried to process the new information he had just learned and Banner was just looking at him, studying him and _God_ that freaked him out. Normally, this would be the perfect time to make some small talk but right now, even Tony was at a loss for words. He did have one burning question, however.

"So, how does it work?"

"How does what work?"

"Changing. Is it triggered by internal or external stimuli? Does it depend on the weather? Are you some kind of were-"

A ghost of a smile was visible on Banner's lips when he interrupted Tony. "Please, don't finish that sentence. It doesn't depend on the weather; it's… more emotional. When my heart rate goes above a certain number, I… I lose control."

"So have you been looking for a cure?"

"Of course I have. What else do you think I've been doing?"

"That's why I'm asking. Got any closer to it?"

The doctor shuffled uncomfortably, and his eyes flicked to the entrance of the internet café. "There was this… root. I tried it, but it failed. Only worked temporarily."

Tony bit his lip and thought for a second. "Maybe the cure you're looking for can't be found in nature. The source wasn't natural either."

"I know. But at this point, I don't really have a choice."

"Because you don't have the means to indulge yourself in science. Right." Again, Tony took a moment to consider his next actions. It was then that Banner shoved his chair back and got up; it was almost like he could read Tony's mind and saw what his next offer would be.

"Thanks for this delightful conversation, but I really need to go now," the doctor said with another look at the door of the café. Tony merely lifted one eyebrow.

"Why are you in such a hurry to go away from possibly the only person who wants to and actually _can_ help you?"

"I never asked for your help."

"I'm offering it to you anyway. Look at me. I made some mistakes, and I want to set them right. Just listen to me for a sec. If you come back with me –"

"I'm not going back. I built a life here, and I'm doing fine; considering. I'm not going back to the country that…" his voice faltered.

Tony was silent for a second, before quietly asking, "What did they do to you?"

"I'm sure you have already developed your own hypothesis on that matter." Banner licked his lips and his eyes flicked to Tony's, then back to the table but not before he'd seen the shadow of old pain reflected in them. "And that's more than you should ever know. I'm not elaborating."

Tony nodded shortly, before continuingly, hesitantly, "You know what happened to me, a year ago? Afghanistan?"

"I read about it."

"Okay. Long story short - they wanted me to build something; I didn't want to do that for them. They tried to make me. So. I know. I know how difficult it is to talk about."

Doctor Banner was silent for a long time. Tony could practically see the wheels in his head turning at top speed; he still looked like he was about to turn away and walk off, but eventually, the man slowly sat back down in his chair and hesitantly met Tony's eyes again. Something in the doctor's expression had changed.

"Is it true you have a reactor in your chest?"

"Yeah. It's a prime example of technological beauty," Tony replied, feeling strangely relieved. He added with a smug wink, "I'd show you, but you'd really have to buy me a drink first."

* * *

Lots of convincing from Tony's side later, he and Banner found themselves in a five star restaurant a few streets away from the internet café. Despite his earlier remark, Tony was of course the one paying for dinner – even though the doctor seemed uncomfortable with the idea of such quality food being bought for him. Or maybe it was because they were out in a public place; Tony didn't know and didn't ask, but he did make sure that their table was in a dark, secluded corner where they could continue their private conversation, which ended up being more like one sided monologues in which Tony filled the doctor in on the latest developments in technology and science.

"And that, Doc," Tony concluded his latest rant, "could possibly indicate a hitch in quantum mechanics."

"Bruce," the doctor corrected him with a soft smile. "Please, call me Bruce."

The doctor, or Bruce, as he'd rather be called, had been smiling an awful lot during their first two courses. If it wasn't for the newly discovered fact that the guy didn't drink alcohol, Tony would have thought he mood switch was caused because he was a lightweight. But, well, he didn't. So that left Tony to conclude that Bruce was finally warming up to him.

"Whatever you want, Brucie," Tony replied with a smirk. Bruce rolled his eyes at the nickname but didn't actually stop him from using it, so Tony supposed he was okay with it.

Tony took a sip of what must be his third glass of whiskey, and noticed that he could no longer ignore the pleasant buzz that was starting to cloud his head. He almost felt guilty for getting tipsy while in the company of an almost painfully sober person; which reminded him.

"So, you don't drink," Tony started.

"No, I don't."

"Then how do you… Relax? Forget? You know…" Tony made some vague gestures with his hands to emphasize his point.

"Are you asking me if I use drugs?"

"Well, if you want to look at it that way."

Bruce chuckled and bowed his head, having very intense eye contact with his dessert while he answered, "I drink tea to relax, but that's about it. I don't think I could ever forget, even if I wanted to."

"So you've never tried weed?" Tony asked casually. "According to reliable sources, it's very relaxing. Probably more so than your tea."

"My tea is very good at relaxing me, thank you very much. But no. Not since my college years." Bruce was smiling again and gosh if that didn't make Tony's stomach flip in a very good way.

"Heh," Tony replied with something that could be described as a dopey smile, "I would sacrifice at least half my money to see Bruce the Teenage Pothead in action."

"I bet you would. It'd be worth it, though. Stories tell I was hilarious."

"Would you consider trying it again? You know, just to see the effects? For science?"

"I might. Why are you asking?" Bruce asked with the smile of someone who knew fully well why the other was asking.

"Well, I might have some premium quality marijuana in my case back in the hotel that's begging to be used. For science, of course."

"So you're your 'reliable sources'?" Bruce asked with an amused smile gracing his lips.

Tony shrugged. "The most reliable you'll ever get."

"Something's telling me that you're a bad influence on me," Bruce said while shaking his head, but Tony could still see the fond twinkle in his eyes.

Tony laughed. "The worst. So, are you in or not?"

* * *

"Are you sure the hotel actually allows people to smoke inside?"

"Don't worry, I got this. If they complain, I'll just pay for the redecoration of this room. No biggie."

"'No biggie'? I…" Bruce sighed and shook his head, probably remembering that Tony paying for the redecoration of a penthouse was the equivalent of a normal human being buying a hamburger at McDonald's. They were seated on the large, soft corner sofa in the centre of his room; Bruce had a freshly rolled joint dangling from his lips and Tony was playing with his lighter, clicking it on and off while taking an occasional sip from the remains of yesterday's bottle of whiskey.

"So, are you ready?" Tony asked, wiggling his eyebrows while lifting the lighter.

Bruce nodded shortly and leaned in, closer to the flame.

"For science," he said, repeating Tony's earlier words.

"For science," Tony agreed.

Bruce sucked on the joint as Tony lit it and a moment later, his eyes were closing and he was leaning back into the couch, smoke escaping his lips.

"That's good," Bruce sighed.

"Told ya so," Tony said with a triumphant smile. He put away his lighter and casually slung his arm over the back of the couch behind Bruce, shuffling a bit closer. He watched the man take another drag of the joint and a second later, Bruce looked back. He smiled and Tony couldn't help but smile back; the tension that had been there all day had left the doctor's body and now he just looked… happy. Tony quickly looked away and finished his bottle, suddenly feeling a little nervous; you know, just like that, out of nowhere. You'd think that a man with his amount of experience with flirting and one-night stands could handle a small smile, but, no. Not in this case. Somehow, this was… different.

"Cão was right." Bruce's voice broke the silence and Tony looked back, raising one eyebrow.

"Who was right?"

"Cão. My dog."

Tony remembered the grey, gigantic beast that had violently thrown him on the ground. He frowned lightly.

"Why would you name your dog Cow? It's a dog."

"It's Portuguese. For dog."

Tony chuckled, and tried to take another sip from the bottle before remembering that he had already drunk it all; he put it on the table in front of him, next to the ashtray, as he replied, "Creative in naming, I see. Anyway. What was Cow right about?"

"It's Cão, not Cow. She has a very good intuition when it comes to judging people."

"So?" Tony prompted.

"I was surprised she took a liking to you."

Tony fake-gasped. "You're kinda hurting my feelings now."

Bruce was silent for a moment and took another drag from the joint. Finally, he looked back at Tony and responded, "Would you say I was wrong in my assumptions with the information I had at that time?"

"Well," Tony said, but couldn't think of anything to defend himself. If he knew that someone was building something specifically to kill him, he wouldn't be their greatest fan either. He shrugged helplessly, and sat in silence for a minute before clearing his throat. "But what it comes down to, is that you're calling me a nice person now?"

There it was, again. That smile. "Yes."

"Thanks, I guess," Tony said, while looking at a very interesting spot on the wall.

Bruce nudged him, and Tony looked back. "Thank _you_ for taking the time to prove me wrong in my assumptions."

It was hard not to smile back when the doctor was looking at him like that. Tony couldn't help himself and gave him a small wink. "Any time; it's what I do best."

They sat together in a silence that Tony didn't feel the need to break. He had closed his eyes and was actually starting to doze off, his mind pleasantly clouded and his body comfortable and warm, when again, Bruce voice broke the silence.

"You want a shot?"

"Hmm? Sure."

He opened his eyes to see that Bruce was a lot closer than he was before, his eyes half lidded and very obviously staring at Tony's lips. His heart skipped a beat at the sudden tension and without thinking, he leaned in, closing his eyes and slightly parting his lips until he felt Bruce's on his. Bruce's hand cupped his cheek and Tony felt a shiver down his spine at the intimacy; he wanted to get closer, to lick his way into his mouth, to– The sharp pang of smoke suddenly filled his lungs; coughing his ass off and with a rather shocked look on his face, Tony pulled back and accusingly stared at the doctor.

"What the hell?" he managed before dissolving into another fit of coughing.

Bruce actually giggled and declared with an incredibly smug smile, "I gave you a shot."

"That… Jesus. Fuck. That kind of shot. Okay. I thought…"

That he was going to kiss him? That he meant an alcoholic shot? Fuck if Tony knew. Another dimension of cloudiness settled over his already hazy mind as the smoke did its job. He leaned back into the couch with a small moan, closing his eyes and only opening them to glare at Bruce.

"Stop laughing, it's not funny."

"You're right, it's hilarious," Bruce said with a shit eating grin.

"Ugh. I'm so gonna puke," Tony mumbled while closing his eyes again and waiting for the edge of the effects to wear off.

"It only was one shot." Bruce's giggles had subdued and he sounded a little nervous now. "… Are you okay?"

"Hmm? Hm-hm. Yeah. In a second. It's just… Whiskey. And weed. It's not, not very. You know."

It was silent for a while. Tony thought that maybe Bruce had fallen asleep, or maybe he had. He wasn't sure; but after a while, Bruce's voice said a quiet "Sorry."

"No worries," Tony said, and opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling of the room. It was white and a bit wobbly and if he looked close enough, he was pretty sure he could see the patterns of the rest of the universe unfold. Interesting. He'd have to share this experience with Bruce, he thought, and he turned his head to look at the man but his words were stuck in his throat when he saw how lost the guy looked. "You can kiss me better, though," Tony said instead, hoping that'd turn his frown upside down.

"Are you serious?" The joke apparently hadn't had its desired effect and the doctor now just looked confused and uncertain.

"If you want me to be." Tony was finally feeling a little more eloquent now that the first wave of the drug had worn off. He stared intently at Bruce; the doctor seemed to be considering Tony's words and then put the stub that was left from the joint down in the ashtray and suddenly he was on his knees next to Tony, his face hovering close to his own.

Tony blinked, swallowed and let his eyes adjust to the sudden closeness of the doctor; he allowed his hand that had been resting on the back of the couch to hesitantly weave through Bruce's dark curls, softer than expected. He couldn't believe this was actually happening. He stared into Bruce's eyes, brown, highlighted by the lamp in the corner with a hint of amber, before they fluttered close when he felt the light touch of Bruce's lips on his. It was a soft, short, innocent kiss, but it left Tony breathless when Bruce pulled away.

"Better?" Bruce asked softly.

"Yeah," Tony breathed and he wanted to pull him back for another kiss but he was stopped when he saw a small frown appear on the doctor's face.

"What?"

"You smell," Bruce said with a frown. "Like alcohol."

"Oh, wow. Do I? Thanks," Tony said, dropping his hand that had still been threading through Bruce's hair back on the couch. "I'll let you know that you too do smell. Like pot."

Bruce eyes were huge and sad and lost and suddenly it struck Tony that Bruce actually might have a reason for strongly disliking alcohol.

"Hey, hey. Don't go all sad on me. I'll brush my teeth, okay?"

When Tony returned, he found that Bruce had moved from the couch and now was lying on the bed, all spaced out, staring at the ceiling. Tony walked closer and sat down on the edge of the bed, next to him.

"You okay there, buddy?"

Bruce blinked slowly and turned to look at him before shuffling a bit farther away on the bed, obviously making room for Tony to join him. So Tony did just that. Even though the bed was at least California king sized, Bruce left him just enough space so that he wouldn't fall off if he turned around; but that was okay. They lay pressed close on their sides, just staring at each other, until Bruce hesitantly lifted his hand and reached for Tony's chest. Tony remained motionless, looking anywhere but at the hand that was gingerly touching the edges of the arc reactor through the fabric of his hoodie.

"Tony," Bruce said quietly; Tony's eyes snapped back to Bruce, who was looking at him, his pupils widely dilated and eyes a bit red from the weed. It was the first time he actually used his first name, Tony realized vaguely. "Can I…?"

Tony's jaw set and he looked away again. He knew what Bruce was asking, and he also knew that he really did not want to comply. Showing someone his most important invention was one thing; to show his scarred chest where said invention was implanted, was another. He could get over it, under the right circumstances, with the right audience. But ever since his body had started to shut down, showing dark, poisoned veins at the edge of the device that was supposed to keep him alive but instead was now slowly but surely killing him, he didn't even dare to look at it himself.

"I'm sorry," he heard Bruce say, and the hand was removed from his chest. "I shouldn't have–"

"Don't," Tony said shortly, and with a small struggle, he sat up and took one, two deep breaths before he pulled the hoodie over his head and ditched it somewhere on the floor. The eerie, blue glow of the arc reactor filled the dim room; Tony closed his eyes to shut it out, to not have to see Bruce's reaction to the clusterfuck that his chest was nowadays and lay down again on his back.

"It's so beautiful," he heard Bruce whisper. He didn't react, even when the hand returned and softly touched the surface of the arc reactor, the places where metal met flesh and the scars that covered his chest.

"The core was made of palladium, right?"

Tony swallowed, and nodded shortly. The hand stopped minutely with its journey over his chest, before traveling up and cupping Tony's face, gently making his head turn to the side. When he opened his eyes again, Bruce's face was blurred; Tony blinked and rubbed his eyes with one hand.

"Did you try replacing it with another element?"

"All of them," Tony whispered hoarsely.

He didn't try to stop Bruce when he pulled Tony in a hug. He just tried to keep his breathing under control, but didn't quite manage to stop the tears from spilling from his eyes as his head rested against Bruce's chest. He felt Bruce's hand rubbing soft, comforting circles into his back and it wasn't before too long before Tony wrapped his own arm around the other man's waist and clutched his shirt.

"I'll try to look into it," Bruce promised with a whisper.

"Here? How?" Tony chuckled humourlessly. "I have the most advanced lab of the USA and I'm still dying."

There. He said it. He was dying.

"I'll figure something out."

Tony wanted to disagree, to snap that Bruce couldn't even solve his own problem, but was held back by how serious he had made the promise sound. He sighed and deflated.

"Come back with me," he whispered into his chest instead. "I can help you, you can help me. I… My tower is the most highly secured building in the world. You'll be safe; you won't have to run anymore. I can get you your own lab. Just… Come with me."

Tony realized how close he was to _begging_ the doctor to come with him, but right now, his mind dark and clouded by alcohol and his hands clutching the shirt of the single person Tony had no trouble admitting could equal or even surpass his intelligence, it made sense; it was important. He counted his breaths while he waited for a reply, hoping that Bruce thought the same.

"I'll consider it," came the quiet reply. And Tony knew; he held on tighter, not ready to let go just yet.

* * *

A ray of sunshine filtered through the window, yet the room felt cold and empty when Tony woke up. He didn't even need to open his eyes to know that he was alone; still, his eyes fluttered open and took in the empty spot of his bed where not hours ago the doctor had been, now disappeared in the chaos that life in a metropole brought.

It was almost as if last night had never happened, was it not for the faint smell of weed that still lingered in the room. Tony stared into the distance, one hand absently massaging the tender skin surrounding the miniature reactor in his chest while he thought about Bruce, who had managed to – or maybe, whom Tony had _let_ – get through to him in a way that no one had before; who just _understood_ , without needing to ask, without needing explanation. He thought about what could have been, if they had met under different circumstances, if he had made an actual effort at their first meeting, years ago. He thought about everything he gained and lost, all in one night.

And while the slight throbbing in Tony's head tried to convince him otherwise, he suddenly couldn't wait to get out of bed and leave this room, to go home. He propped himself up with his elbow, rubbed his eyes and with a sigh, he swung his legs over the edge of his bed before throwing on the inconspicuous clothing he had worn yesterday. He considered just leaving the rest of his stuff in the room and make his assistant call the hotel later to retrieve it, or simply buy it all new when he got home – but then his eyes caught the salon table in front of the couch.

It certainly wasn't how it was left behind the evening before. First of all, a cheap looking burner phone was now laying in the centre of the table; with a quick check, it confirmed Tony's suspicions – only one text was ever sent with it, holding the address of the internet café around the corner. The message the mere presence of this phone conveyed however, was clearly one that said, _Don't try to contact or find me_.

Next to the phone, on the place where Tony was pretty sure he had ditched his bag of weed, was a small note that said in small, rather sloppy handwriting, the word _Thanks_. A small smile tugged at Tony's lips at the thought of Bruce sneaking out the remains of his marijuana, but something told him that it wasn't the weed that Bruce was saying thanks for.

Gingerly, he took the note, only to discover there was another sentence written on the back. _I hope to meet you again in better times_. Tony's heart clenched at the words and for a moment, he had a hard time breathing. Trying not to fold it, he put the note in his wallet and got back on his feet where he had been squatting down in front of the table. With Bruce's phone in his hand and the note in his pocket, he turned around and left the room without looking back.

It was time to go home.


End file.
